Notwithstanding all that went before, Christian enjoyed her ten days. She knew she ought not to feel happy, but nevertheless happiness would nestle up close to her. She was not troubled; she was calm. She felt that, naughty as she had been, God had forgiven her. During those ten days Christian was very gentle in her manners. She had a sensation in her heart that she could never be naughty again. She was so impressed by this feeling that, the night before she left for Cornwall, she said to nurse:

"Nursey, darling, I suppose all things are for the best. I feel that I am a much wiser girl than I should have been if I had gone to Cornwall that time when father and mother left."

"What do you mean, lovey?" replied the old nurse.

"Well, you see, I have been quite bad, and I have had great terrors, and I have lived through the sort of things that open your eyes, and I see now that I was a selfish girl, and naughty and deceitful, and not a bit of a heroine; but since I came back I have vowed that I will never be naughty again, and I don't mean to be."

"To be sure, dear," said nurse gently. "It's all very fine to promise that to yourself, isn't it, but how do you think you will keep it up?"

"Simply by not yielding to temptation. You know I have a passionate nature, and I have lived a great deal alone, and I dare say I might have found it hard to be thrown with other girls and to give up my own ways. But I am not at all afraid now, for after what I have suffered I have vowed to be good—very good—all the rest of my life."

"Well then, you have just to bear this in mind," said nurse: "God Almighty must help you, and desperate hard too, or you will fail. I prayed for you, my darling, when I didn't know that I'd ever see your sweet face again, and I'll go on praying for you; and I hope you will be happy at school, and that you will learn a lot, so that when your father and mother come back they will be proud of you—as I always am, my dear, sweet lamb."

Miss Neil came early on the following morning and took Christian to Paddington; and this time there was no attempt at running away, and no adventure of any sort, for Miss Neil and Christian had a first-class carriage to themselves for the greater part of the journey.

They reached Tregellick at six o'clock, when it was quite dark, and there a brougham was waiting for them; and after driving for about a mile they found themselves outside the town, in the heart of the country. They drove on a little farther, and Christian, gazing out through the darkness, fancied she saw the gleam of white foam caused by the waves of the Atlantic, and the noise of the sea came loudly, with an insistent splash, against her ears. This noise moved and delighted her. She grasped Miss Neil's hand.

"I shall like living here," she said.

Miss Neil replied calmly, "I hope you will, Christian. You quite understand, my dear, that the school is a strict one, and the first thing you have to learn is absolute obedience. From what I hear, there is very little liberty granted to the girls of Penwerne; but for those who are right-minded there is to be found in your new school a growth and strength both moral and physical."

"Oh, dear, I do wish she wouldn't speak in that lecturing sort of way!" thought Christian to herself; but then she remembered her vow that she would never be cross, even with Miss Neil, again, and she shut her lips and said nothing more.

By and by the carriage drew up outside some tall iron gates, which were opened by a neat-looking woman in a white cap. Christian caught sight of the lodge, with a bright lamp placed in one of the windows, as they drove swiftly up the long avenue. They stopped before a very long, low house, with many lights twinkling in many windows, and a deep porch to the front door. As soon as ever the sound of wheels was heard, a neat-looking servant flung the door wide open; then she came out and helped Miss Neil and Christian to get out of the cab.

"Will you have the goodness to tell Miss Peacock that Miss Neil and the little girl, Christian Mitford, have arrived?" said Miss Neil to the servant. "And see, please, that Miss Mitford's luggage and my handbag are brought indoors."

"Yes, madam," said the servant. "Will you walk this way, please?"

She took them into a very wide hall, brightly lighted with electric light, and with an ingle-nook at the farther end where a great fire of logs burned on the hearth.

Christian was cold, and a sense of depression, notwithstanding all her brave efforts, was creeping over her. She looked at Miss Neil, and thought she had seldom seen a more disagreeable or sterner face.

"I am so thankful," thought the child, "that she is not going to teach me—that she is not going to stay here. I couldn't be good with her; that's quite certain. But, all the same, I will keep my vow."

They were shown into a small, cheerful room, which also had a fire burning. The servant withdrew, saying in a respectful voice as she did so, "I will tell my mistress, and she will send someone to you."

"Dear me, Christian!" said Miss Neil when the door had closed and they found themselves alone; "what a particularly pleasant, cheerful sort of place this seems to be! Not at all my idea of a strict school. My dear, do hold yourself up; you don't know how that stoop ruins your appearance. Your parents are very particular about you, and they expect so much of you that the very least you can do now is to make extra efforts to be good in the highest sense of the word. Goodness includes deportment, Christian; perhaps you don't understand that."

"Oh, yes, I do, Miss Neil," said Christian, who was almost biting her lips to keep her tongue from saying something pert.

"You of course also understand," continued Miss Neil, "that you are not now arriving at school with any Éclat. You have been exceedingly naughty, and I rather fancy your punishment awaits you here. I am not certain, of course, but I rather fancy that such is the case."

"What do you mean?" said Christian, in alarm.

"My dear, I say nothing further. Time will prove; time will prove. But it really is most kind of Miss Peacock to have you at all. There were moments when I feared you would not be received at Penwerne. That fact would have been a slur upon you all your life. Ah! and here comes——"

The door was thrown open, and a tall, very graceful woman of about forty years of age entered. Her face was very sweet, but there was no lack of power in it; on the contrary, it looked strong, steadfast, self-assured. The eyes were the brightest Christian had ever looked at. She felt certain, on the spur of the moment, that this woman had known sorrow—that she had conquered sorrow. Her heart went out to her on the spot.

Miss Peacock bowed to Miss Neil, and then, taking both Christian's hands, she drew the young girl towards her and kissed her gravely on the forehead.

"Welcome," she said.

The one word seemed full both of strength and love. The depression which had fallen upon Christian vanished on the spot.

"I will be good," she said, and she raised her eyes full of tears and fixed them on her mistress's face.

"I hope you will. But this is not the time to talk of goodness or of naughtiness; you are so tired that what you want is rest. Never mind to-night about being good or bad, clever or ignorant. You must have your supper and then go to bed. Miss Neil, I am glad to tell you that I am able to give Christian, for a time at least, a little bedroom to herself. Susan Sykes as a rule shares the room, but she is ill and not able to return. Until she does Christian will have the room to herself."

"Oh, I am glad!" said Christian.

"And you ought to be, Christian," said Miss Neil in her tartest voice, "for you don't deserve indulgences."

"Oh, come!" said Miss Peacock. "We never talk of faults—at least in this house—except when we are punishing them; and I think Christian was punished. She begins here with a clean sheet. Now, my dear, I am going to put you in the charge of Jessie, who is my right-hand and looks after all the comforts the girls require."

As Miss Peacock spoke she touched the electric bell by the side of the fireplace, and the same pleasant-looking servant-girl who had shown them into the house appeared.

"Ask Miss Jessie to step into the hall waiting room," said Miss Peacock.

The servant withdrew, and in a very short time a girlish-looking person, who might have been one of the schoolgirls herself, entered. That was Christian's first impression with regard to Miss Jessie Jones, but when she looked again she began to perceive that Miss Jessie was not quite so young as she appeared. She was dressed in a peculiar and old-fashioned way. Her rather skimpily cut skirt reached barely to her neat ankles, and over it she wore a muslin apron with a bib. The apron was frilled all round, and daintily finished with bows of pale-blue ribbon. Miss Jessie's hair was in short ringlets—it was of a soft, blonde color—her face was pink-and-white, and her eyes blue. Her little figure was also exceedingly neat. She ran into the room, and said in a gay voice:

"Well, dear Miss Peacock, here I am."

"I want you, Jessie, to take this young girl—my new pupil, Christian Mitford—and look after her. You must do everything for her that she requires; and I should like her to go early to bed. Did you ask Robinson to light a fire in her room?"

"Certainly, dear Miss Peacock; the room is in perfect order, and there is a bright fire."

"Well then, good-night, Christian," said Miss Peacock. "I leave you in safe hands. You will see your friend Miss Neil to-morrow."

"Good-night, Christian," said Miss Neil; "and be thankful for your mercies."

Christian left the room, accompanied by Miss Jessie. "I am glad you have come at last," said the latter. "We have been all looking forward to seeing you. You can scarcely imagine how disappointed we were when you could not arrive a fortnight ago."

"Oh, please don't speak of it!" said Christian.

"But why not? We were so sorry. Dear Miss Peacock said you were unavoidably detained. She did not tell us what had happened. She only said you could not come to school for at least ten days."

"It was sweet of her," said Christian. Then she added impulsively, "Isn't she the very nicest and best woman in the world?"

"Ah!" said Miss Jessie, with a laugh, "you have fallen in love with her, as we all do. There never was anybody quite like Lavinia Peacock. Don't you think her name sweet? Lavinia, like an old-fashioned flower; and then Peacock—like that gorgeous bird. But nothing could be too good for her; she is perfect. The girls adore her—they love her almost too well. Yes, she makes sunshine wherever she goes. Not that it's all sunshine at Penwerne by any means. But I will tell you about that presently—not to-night; you look tired. Are you tired? Have you quite got over whatever detained you?"

"Quite; and please don't speak of it."

"I won't if you don't wish. The mistresses here never do anything to worry the girls; we never nag, if you understand what that means."

"And are you a mistress?"

A sad look came into the sweet face of little Miss Jessie.

"No; I am not exactly one of the mistresses," she said. "I don't exactly know what I am, except that my province in the school is to spread happiness. That is what dear Lavinia wishes. 'Make them happy, Jessie, and you'll do all that I require,' she says. I generally get a new girl for the first night—perhaps longer. She trusts me. You see, I am not at all a frightening sort of person."

"I shouldn't think you were," said Christian.

"You look a very nice girl, dear—nice-looking, I mean—rather distinguished. Lavinia wouldn't like me to say anything of that kind, so I oughtn't to; but you really do. Now then, will you come in to the refectory, or will you have something brought up to your own room?"

"Oh, something in my room, please, if it isn't too much trouble," said Christian.

"Trouble, dear? Whenever did Jessie find anything a trouble? It is her business to do this sort of thing if it adds to the happiness of anyone. We will go straight upstairs, then; you won't want to see any of your companions to-night?"

"I think not."

Miss Jessie paused. It seemed to Christian as they were walking up the low, softly carpeted stairs, and down first one long corridor and then another, that there was a murmuring sound as though of bees. She could not make out if it was caused by the Atlantic or by voices.

"They are anxious to see you. They begged and implored of me; but you shall have your way."

"I would much rather not see anybody but you until to-morrow."

"You dear child, you shan't be crossed. But just one moment."

Miss Jessie paused outside a door. The sound of bees was now unmistakably changed for the sound of voices.

"No, darlings, not to-night; she is tired. Don't ask it, pets. You never cross Jessie, do you? That's all right, loves."

The door was shut again, and she took Christian's hand.

"They are dear girls, although we have one or two black sheep. Of course I must not name them. We are all trying—we who belong, I hope, to the white sheep—to turn them from the error of their ways. Now then, here is your room."

The door was opened, and Christian found herself in a dainty chamber lined with white enameled wood. The wood went right up to the ceiling, and across it; and in the ceiling itself were two bright eyes, caused by electric light. Miss Jessie showed the young girl how she could turn it on and off. In a pretty grate lined with pink tiles a bright fire was blazing. There were two beds at the farther end, one covered with a pretty Liberty coverlet and unmade, and the other with a snowy white sheet turned down. The look of the little bed was most inviting. There were white dimity curtains to the windows. The white effect of everything, with the pink tiles, the blazing fire, and the crimson felt on the floor, made Christian feel that she had never been in so sweet a chamber before.

"You will be happy here, I know," said Miss Jessie. "We are all intensely happy at Penwerne. Who could help it who was under the guardianship of Lavinia Peacock?"

When Miss Jessie had seen that Christian had all she required, even to a can of nice hot water, she kissed her and went away. Christian thought that she would not see her again that night. She felt contented, soothed, and happy. How silly she had been to dread this charming school, this life so full of interest! As she thought of Miss Peacock, and remembered the look on her face, she felt her heart glow already with love for her new mistress. Then how sweet and kind dear Miss Jessie was!

As she ate her supper, and unlocked her trunk and took out just what was necessary for the night's requirements, she thought again of Miss Peacock's great kindness in not speaking to the school of what had really happened.

"She said I was unavoidably detained," thought the child. "She shielded me. There are very few who would do that. I love her already. If I am not good after so much kindness, I shall be the very worst girl in the world."

Christian said her prayers—quite earnest ones, in which she implored of God to help her—and then she got into bed. She was just getting warm between the cozy sheets, when the door was softly opened and little Miss Jessie peeped in.

"Ah! you are in bed," she said; "that's right. I have only come to fetch the tray. Your fire will burn for some hours. It is so cold just at present that we will have it lit before you get up in the morning. That is a special indulgence which will only be granted to you just for to-morrow. To-morrow will be a complete holiday for you. I thought you might like to know. You will be able to unpack and get everything into apple-pie order. Then you will make the acquaintance of the girls, and get to know the ways of the school. You will probably have some lessons to prepare for the next day, but only if you are quite well enough to undertake them. Miss Peacock said I was to be very careful about you. I suppose that is on account of your illness that kept you from school."

As Miss Jessie said the last words Christian suddenly sat up in bed.

"I wasn't kept away from school by illness," she said in a choking voice.

"Well, never mind, dear; it doesn't matter what it was. Our dear head-mistress knows."

"Miss Jessie," said Christian, "I don't know what your other name is."

"I am never called by it, dearest. My other name is Jones; quite a common name, isn't it? But I am always known here as Jessie, or Miss Jessie. Lie down now and go to sleep."

"I can't until I tell you something. I must tell you."

"Well, love, if it relieves your mind; but really and truly I would much rather——"

In the firelight little Miss Jessie's face looked quite troubled; she took both of Christian's hands.

"You are excited," she said. "You have traveled far; the effects of your illness are still perceptible."

"Oh, I wasn't ill! It is about that I want to speak to you. You at least must know the truth."

"Oh, but I never know things of that sort," said Miss Jessie in an alarmed voice. "Dear Lavinia Peacock would be distressed. I beg of you, my child. Oh, what is it? Actually the dear child is crying. Well, of course, Christian, if it relieves your mind, dear——"

"It does—it does!" said Christian. "I couldn't sleep to-night if you didn't know it. It wasn't illness."

"My dear, dear child."

"It was naughtiness."

"Children are often naughty," said Miss Jessie.

"But not like my naughtiness. It was big—it was worse; it was wickedness. I ran away."

"You did what, dear?" said Miss Jessie; and now she backed from Christian and looked at her with her round, rosy, good-natured face paling with horror.

She said afterwards to herself, "I was glad there was only firelight, and that I was standing with my back to it, for the poor child would have seen how horrified I felt."

"Yes," said Christian, "I ran away that day a fortnight back when you were expecting me. I went to the station with Miss Neil. I left her and went away with another little girl. We had planned it all out together. We went to an awful place in the slums for the night. Oh, it was fearful—fearful! We nearly died from fright. We were well punished. The next day we got home, but it was a terrible adventure, and it nearly killed us both. It was not illness; it was what I have said."

Miss Jessie had now recovered her ordinary composure.

"My dear," she said, "I am glad and sorry you have told me. You may be quite sure that I shall never repeat it to anyone. There is just one thing, Christian: you must not on any account—on any account whatever—breathe this story in the school. It would not be understood, dear. It would make your position unfortunate. I cannot explain matters. Our code of honor is very high, and we like all our girls to have a clean record—never to do what is daring and downright wicked. Ah, yes, Christian, we repent, but somehow the flavor of the sin remains. Ah, Christian, I will tell you a story of another little girl some day—not to-night. Good-night, now. It was brave of you to tell, and I will speak to Lavinia about it; but whatever happens, this must on no account be known in the school."

Miss Jessie tripped softly away, and Christian, soothed by the light of the fire, by the knowledge that she had unburdened herself, by the resolve that, come what would, she would do the very best that was possible for a girl to do in the future, dropped asleep.